


Closest Friend I've Got

by RedCoatsRedder



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr is forgiven, Alexander Hamilton is a Dad, Angst, Especially in later chapters, F/M, Fluff, John Laurens is a Good Person, LAMS LAMS LAMS, M/M, Washingdad, and i mean lots of angst, but only slightly - Freeform, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedCoatsRedder/pseuds/RedCoatsRedder
Summary: John Laurens is Philip Hamilton's guardian spirit. How's this going to go?





	1. Chapter 1

John Laurens was sure he was dead. He remembered the bullet piercing his body, and he remembered closing his eyes and just…..going. But now feeling was semi-returned to his body, and he was sure it was force of will keeping his eyes closed. And….was he standing upright? It felt like it. So for lack of a better option, he opened his eyes. 

He was most certainly not dead. Rather, he was standing on his feet, clothed in the uniform he’d been shot in, inside a room. In a house. Everything was as if he was alive, minus the fact that his skin was glowing silver- blue and his form was rather smokey around the edges. Gazing around the room, John wondered whose house this could possibly be. It wasn’t one that he really recognized. 

A writing desk was shoved into the corner. Paper and quills spilled over the wooden surface, and inkwells dotted the scene. Walking (well it was more like drifting than anything) across the space to examine it, John caught sight of a sprawling signature at the bottom of one of the many papers. 

Yrs Most Sincerely, Alexander Hamilton. 

Yrs Most Sincerely, Alexander Hamilton. 

His closest friend. They had fought side by side throughout the war, along with their other two friends, Mulligan and the Marquis. All of the moments they’d shared. Memories flooded his head. The duel with Lee, laughing around a fire and passing a bottle of whiskey around, his and Eliza’s wedding, Hercules scattering the flower petals. 

This would be Alexander’s home, then. But why was he here? And in his new, ghostly form? Did he have some sort of purpose here? A voice called out from deep within the house. 

“Mr. Hamilton! You can see your wife now!” It was a deep voice, and unfamiliar. Footsteps could be heard echoing across the silence as someone ran through the house. 

Well, John just had to see this. And was something wrong with Eliza? He floated to the door, and to his surprise, instead of grasping the knob to open it, he just fell straight through. Ah. Right. He was a ghost now. This was going to take some getting used to. 

The only noise in the house was coming from a room at the end of the hallway. John stealthily slipped through wall and stood off to one side. The room felt crowded, even though there were only three people in the room (and one ghost). 

Eliza was lying in the bed in the center of the room, and a doctor in a long coat was standing near her. Sitting next to his wife on the bed was….. Alexander. 

His old, dear friend. It had been too long since he’d last seen him. Far too long. But at least he looked happy. Though what about, John could not fathom. And then he noticed that Eliza was holding something. Or was it someone? 

“Our son.” Eliza was saying. Alexander looked close to tears, overwhelmed by pride. “His name is Philip.” 

“Philip is perfect.” Alexander agreed. The couple sat in silence for a moment, and the doctor smiled and turned to leave. He walked right through John. 

He stumbled backwards. It suddenly occurred to him that no one had commented on his presence. And he hadn’t exactly been inconspicuous. So no one could see him. Oh, this was going to be painful. 

Striding over to the happy two on the bed, he stood close enough to peer over Alexander’s shoulder. A peaceful, serene face gazed back up at him. The Hamilton’s son. Philip Hamilton. 

And the child’s eyes suddenly met John’s. For a moment, both were silent. Then, the baby boy’s face split into a grin and he babbled happily. His fist clenched and unclenched, as if he was reaching for the bloodstained cravat that circled John’s throat. The Hamiltons laughed. Alexander gazed down at his child with reverence clear on his face. 

“Someday, Philip’s going to blow us all away.” he grinned. 

John was still reeling, though he didn’t exactly know why. Protect that child, a voice in his head seemed to be saying. That’s what you need to do. Keep him safe. 

Alright. Okay. Yes. He could do that. After all, it couldn’t be that hard, right?

He later reflected that he should have known that any child of Alexander’s would have a knack for getting himself into trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

John Laurens had been watching over Philip for the past year. And there was no child more like Alexander. 

Philip already had a knack for getting himself into mischief, something his parents seemed to expect. John had even heard Eliza remark to Alexander that Philip had inherited his father’s personality and that they might very well have another Alexander Hamilton on their hands. “I do not know if the world will be able to handle two of you, dear.” She had told him. 

But Philip was learning how to move around, and his speech was becoming more coherent by the day. It was clear he was going to be a very bright young man. And no one had noticed John’s presence yet. Although, sometimes he thought that he would catch Philip’s gaze on him, and he’d shudder a bit when the child smiled and reached out as if to grab at John. It got unnerving. 

John had also taken to watching Alexander sometimes in the evenings. How he longed to just shout out and see his friend turn around, to grab him by the shoulders and not let him go, to be with him again. The war had brought them together and then it had torn them apart again. So now he was standing behind Alexander as he sat at his desk, watching him write about banks and financial systems. Based on what he’d read previously, his friend was now President Washington’s Secretary of the Treasury. Privately, he thought there was no one more suited to the job. Alexander had always talked about the need for a way to handle money during the war, and looks like his ideas had finally paid off. 

 

Months flew by, and now Philip was two. He could walk, albeit a little unsteadily, and he was speaking in fractured sentences. John still hovered along next to the child, whether it be just in the house, or outside in the family’s small garden. 

The ache was soothed a little bit, and he was almost content to just watch the Hamiltons’ lives from the background. Until one night, long after sunset, when he was absentmindedly drifting through the house and happened to wander into Alexander’s study. 

And his old friend (lover, comrade, infinitely more) was sitting in his chair, shoulders slumped and shaking, clutching several papers in his hands. As John got closer, he recognized his own handwriting. Flashes of memory bubbled to the surface. The adoring, passionate letters that Alex had sent to him, and his own infatuated responses. 

“John, John, I’m so sorry, I should have gone with you to South Carolina, and maybe then you’d still be here, I don’t know if you ever got my last letter, but your father, he wrote to me, and he explained what had happened. I should have done something. I’m so, so sorry.” His head was in his hands, and John stepped forward, attempting to wrap his arms around Alexander like he had so many times during the war. The small man shuddered suddenly, and stood up shakily, pushing back his chair and returning the letters to a small drawer in his desk. “I’ll see you on the other side, Laurens, and then…” his voice trailed away and he turned to leave the room. 

Desperate to keep him in the room for just a second longer, John made a sudden swipe at the inkwell, something he’d never tried to do before. To his surprise it worked, and ink flooded across the tabletop. 

Alex spun around, racing back to the table to right the inkwell. Without knowing it, he stood barely a leaf’s width from the subject of his heartbreak. John leaned down a bit, kissing the top of Alexander’s head. He straightened suddenly, whirling around, eyes scanning the room, but finding no one. It was incredibly painful to watch, so John was quick to retreat after that. 

Stumbling out on the other side of a wall, (how cliche, he thought sarcastically) he emerged into Philip’s room. Though it was far too late for a young child to be late, Philip was clinging to the side of the crib, gazing at the silvery glowing man with wide eyes. “He-hello,” he said shyly. “Is Daddy okay?” 

What. No. How. What. The Hell. Yes, he’d long suspected that Philip may be the only one who could see him, but this was the first time he’d been directly acknowledged by the kid. For lack of better words, he stuttered out, “Yes, your dad’s fine.” 

The kid blinked. “O-kay. I just thought I heard him crying, and I think that Daddy gets sad sometimes.” He perked up all of the sudden. “But hi! I’m Philip, what’s your name?” 

John figured he had nothing left to lose, being dead and all, so he could probably talk to Alexander’s kid. “My name’s John. John Laurens, Lieutenant Colonel, at your service, Philip Hamilton.” He bowed deeply. Philip giggled. He lay back and stared owlishly up at John, who, try as he might, couldn’t repress a smile. He stayed by the kid’s side all throughout the night, even after his eyes had closed and he drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning, there was no sign that Philip even remembered his encounter with the ghost. But John caught his eye a few times, and it was always met with a happy grin on the young boy’s part. His second encounter came a few days later, when Philip was playing in the garden, supervised by Alexander, who was reading a book. 

Philip was crouched in a flower bed, poking at the plants with a stick and making delighted noises at the small insects squirming in the soil. He looked up at John and gave a joyful laugh. “Hi! I knew it wasn’t a dream. Mommy said it must have been, but I knew it wasn’t.” He looked awfully smug for one so young, and John barked a laugh. “Hello again, Philip. What are you doing?” 

The small boy shrugged. “Mommy said that me and Daddy need to get some fresh air and she sent us out here. D’you want to play hide and seek?” He looked hopefully up at John, who grinned. “Sure, kid. How about you hide first, and I’ll look for you?”

Philip squeaked happily. “Ok! Close your eyes.” He darted off, and John obligingly shut his eyes. After waiting for about a minute, he opened them again and gazed around the garden, immediately spotting Philip behind a rosebush, but not saying a word or giving any sign at all that he had seen the boy. 

Creeping around the small space, he called, “Where’d you go, Philip? I can’t find you.” A giggle sounded from the bush, but John said nothing, only getting closer and closer to the plant. 

The game continued until Philip came dashing out of the roses, laughing like crazy, and Alexander looked up. “Son, what’d you find?” Philip ran over to his father, still giggling like mad. “Daddy, guess what! I made a friend, his name is John Laurens.” Alex froze instantly, his expression going slack. “R-really? That’s, that’s great, Pip! What’s he like?” 

“He’s got brown hair, long like yours, but it’s puffier and he has a big fancy coat like the army one you have. He’s nice!” 

Alexander’s gaze slowly slid around the garden, until he was looking directly at John. Something told him that yes, this time Alex could really see him. His old lover’s eyes met his, and Alex began to quake a little. John smiled, and teasingly blew a kiss in his direction. Alexander paled, his expression going from disbelief to longing and back again. Philip looked up at his father, worried. “Daddy, Daddy, what’s wrong?” 

With what appeared to be a physical effort, Alexander tore his gaze away from John, and bent down to pick up his son. “Nothing, Philip. Everything’s fine. Now, let’s go inside, it’s almost noon.”

Glancing over his shoulder back at John, Philip waved. John waved slightly back, and sank onto a bench. He must be crazy. How could he torture Alexander like that? The man would think he was losing his mind. But on the other hand, if Alex, could see him, then, maybe, just maybe, they could be together again? Not fully, no, not until the day Alexander died. But just enough to be there, able to talk at the very least. Sighing, he followed the pair into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you all think? Comments and kudos make my week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THEODOSIA

Philip had turned six barely a month before. He could speak very well now, and read, and was even learning to play the piano. John knew that the kid was going to be just as bright as Alexander, who seemed to have forgotten the encounter in the garden. The Hamiltons had a daughter as well now, a wonderful little girl named Angelica. And though Philip told her all about John, the boy remained the only one who could see him. The pain had lessened over the years, and his presence beside Philip felt good and right. 

The real fun started when Philip reached the age of fifteen. 

He was brilliant, just as John had known he would be, and played the piano wonderfully now. A truly talented musician. John remembered the boy’s ninth birthday, and how hard he had practiced that day so he could play for his father when he got home from work. Alexander’s face had been glowing with pride. And John shared pride in those achievements as well. He’d discovered that Alexander occasionally caught glimpses of him, and whenever they came about John made sure that he spoke to Alex. They shared memories and Alexander would catch John up on current events. Of course, the moments were forgotten the next day, as if fate was teasing him on purpose. He is here, and now he is gone. 

But forget that. Now he walked along the busy New York streets next to Philip, enjoying the startled expressions that came over the faces of passerby when he glided straight through them. As he always told Philip, it was the little things in life that counted. Philip was murmuring to him out of the corner of his mouth, complaining about one of his professors. “And so the man was just going on and on about this Latin translation, but he was focusing on the wrong section, cause the topic of the lecture was supposed to be their government system and the guy just wouldn’t stop talking about war, and so I told him that he was talking about the wrong thing, right? And he looks at me like I shot his dog or something.” Philip scoffed. “Maybe I should be the one giving the lectures, and we might actually learn something that relates to the topic we are supposed to be talking about.” 

“Hmmm.” John made an agreeing noise. Out of nowhere, a sudden paralyzed expression came over Philip’s face. “Hey, Pip, what’s up? Hey, kid, what is it?” If he could, he would have shaken the boy’s shoulders. Following Philip’s line of sight, he noticed a pretty girl standing across the street, chatting with a few women outside a shop. A slow grin spread across John’s face. “Pip, who’s that?” He raised his eyebrows teasingly. 

Philip choked a little, ducking away from the flood of people to stand in a small shadowed alley. “No one, John, geeze.” The flush blooming across his face told a different story. “She’s pretty, what’s her name?” John inquired. 

The flush deepend and Philip sighed before answering, “Theodosia Burr.” 

John nearly fell over- or he would have, if he had had an actual physical form that could fall over instead of his ghostly spirit body. As it was, he floated right through a wall in shock. “Wait, her last name is Burr? As in, Aaron Burr?” Philip frowned. “Well, yeah, I mean, that’s her father. He’s one of Dad’s friends I think, or Dad knew him at one point, cause Mom brings him up sometimes, except I don’t think she’s very fond of him.” 

Ok. Now what. Philip was obviously in love with this girl (at least John thought he was, it might have been a bit too soon to tell). Except….Burr? Really? In a few moments, John had come to a decision. “Go talk to her, Pip. Introduce yourself. Don’t bring up politics unless she does first. Just as a precaution, you know?” 

The kid nodded. “Okay. Right. Yes. Um, will you help me, John, if I mess up? Like, tell me what to say and stuff?” It was kind of funny to see the usually well- spoken boy trip over his words like this. And John found it very endearing. How amazing was it, what love did to people. 

Philip strode forward confidently (or trying to look like it anyways). He approached the group of girls gathered outside the shop and bowed. “Philip Hamilton, at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss….?” He glanced up at Theodosia. 

She held out her hand. “Theodosia Burr, sir.” It took Philip a moment to realize that she was offering her hand to be shaken, he grasped it and noted that she had a very firm grip. My God, he was falling further in love with her each moment he spent in her presence. He thought back to the stories his father had told him about the time he met Mom. “.....Mr. Hamilton? Mr. Hamilton?” Theodosia was trying to get his attention. “Sorry, Miss.” 

“I was just saying, would your father happen to be one Mr. Alexander Hamilton? My own father and him seem to collide at every turn. They go from cordial to at each other’s throats in a heartbeat.” She smiled and shook her head slightly. 

“Yep, that’s my dad alright. In fact, my mother often describes him as ‘non- stop.’” Philip grinned. Suddenly, John’s voice was in his ear. “PIP! No, change the subject, quickly, hurry!” Umm, sure, John, whatever. He’d been able to hear and see the man for as long as he could remember. John had known his father during the revolution several years back, and had died after the battle of Yorktown had been fought. At least, that was what he had told Philip. 

“Theo! How was your walk?” A man came strolling up the street towards them, smiling. His eyes cast around and landed on Philip, suddenly narrowing. “And who might you be? I must say, you look a bit familiar.” John was standing behind the man, slashing a hand across his throat and making an expression that seemed to mean ‘abort! abort!’. Philip offered his hand to the man and introduced himself. “Wonderful to meet you, sir. Philip Hamilton.” 

It was as if he’d slapped the man. He recoiled instantly, an expression of shock and mistrust on his face. “Well, Philip, please tell your father that Aaron Burr sends his best.” He and Theodosia turned and walked away. Philip was reeling. John looked rather exasperated. 

“I tried to warn you! That was Aaron Burr.” Okay then. “You couldn’t have told me that?” Philip didn’t mean to snap, but some sign would have been nice, before he ruined all of his chances with Theodosia. 

“Of course I did! Didn’t you notice?” John looked incredulous. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Come on, if there’s one thing I can do, it’s help you appeal to Aaron Burr’s better side. First lesson: Don’t talk about your father unless he brings him up. And if he does, you’d best be careful. Dealing with Burr is like carrying an open flame through a room of gunpowder. One wrong move and everything is lost.” John kept talking all the way home. 

Throwing open the door, Philip was greeted with the sight of his parents standing in the foyer. His mom looked delighted. His father, not so much. 

“Philip, honey, guess what! We’ve been invited to a ball, next week! Mr. Burr is hosting it.” 

The devious grin that spread over John’s face was rivaled only by the ones he’d seen his father wear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ehehehehehehe

Philip was standing on the steps of the Burr’s home, nervously fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. John stood next to him, whispering advice in his ear. “Just act as natural as you can. Don’t get too worked up.” As an afterthought, he added, “Try not to step on her toes while you’re dancing. Or anyone’s toes for that matter.” 

“Okay, okay, John I’ve got it, thanks.” One more tug on his cuffs, a deep breath, and he stepped into the foyer of the house. 

The room was aglow with candlelight. John saw Alexander and Eliza dancing, and was reminded of the ball they’d attended in 1780, when they were fighting in the war, and when Alexander had met his future wife. Philip was looking around anxiously, until he spotted Theodosia, greeting guests with her father in one corner of the room. He straightened as much as he could, something John couldn’t help but find amusing. Philip might have been a bit taller than his father, but he was still not the tallest. 

At an encouraging gesture from John, the fifteen year old crossed the room, making his way towards the girl. He bowed, and though John couldn’t hear what they were saying, Theodosia looked curious, and Burr, well, Burr looked impassive. It was impossible to get a read on that man. When Philip approached him again, positively beaming, John assumed that the interaction had gone well. 

“She accepted my offer to dance!” Philip was bouncing slightly on his toes. “I’ve got to tell Pop, this is great, except I don’t think that Mr. Burr likes me all too much yet. I’ll have to change that.” He looked slightly discouraged at this, but the excitement returned full force a few seconds later. “I can be quite charming,” he added with a sly wink at John. 

The band was playing lively, upbeat music, and John stood by the wall, watching as the party- goers whirled around the floor, fabric swishing. Occasionally he slipped into the middle of the dancers, and would stand in the place of whomever he was nearest to, going through the steps as though he were still able to. Although it was rather funny to see the strange, confused expressions come over the people’s faces when the temperature around them dropped a few degrees. 

Some time later, John was back to standing by the wall, watching Philip as he slipped out of the crowd and approached Theodosia. He gave a nervous glance backwards, and John gave him an encouraging smile and nod. The young lady took his hand, and the two took places on the floor for the minuet the band had struck up. 

And then, Alexander was suddenly beside him. He looked happy, if not perhaps a little drunk, and oddly enough, was making eye contact with John. Most people, even if they were looking right at him, did not make eye contact. It was as if some force pulled their gazes away from John’s. But here Alexander was, clearly looking him right in the eye. Both were silent for a few moments. John was the first one to speak. 

“Old friend, I have missed you. And I must say, I think your son Philip takes after you.” 

Alexander blinked. “So I’m not actually imagining this. You’re actually here, somehow. All those times I thought I saw you in the halls, or in the garden, or walking next to Philip in the street, that was all real?” 

“Yes.” John thought perhaps it was a little blunt, but that might be the best way to put it. “But you’re likely going to forget this interaction by tomorrow. It happened after that time in the garden, when Philip was younger, and after all of the small moments when you were able to see me.” 

It was absolutely heartbreaking, how Alexander suddenly looked crestfallen. “I wish I could say that I remember what you are talking about. But of course I can’t.” A sudden, slightly devilish look spread over his face. “If I’m going to forget this ever happened, will you do me the honor of one last party together? Like when we were younger?” 

John decided that if Alexander wasn’t going to remember or regret this, neither would he. “Of course, my good man. Like when we were younger.” 

It was past midnight when John spoke to Philip again, whose face was a little flushed, from what appeared to be a combination of sheer joy, the heat in the room, and the marvelous whiskey that Burr had managed to procure. “Guess what? I’m going to see Theodosia again! We’re going on a friendly stroll on Wednesday, though Mr. Burr’s face when she accepted was priceless.” Philip was positively glowing. “Well, when’s the wedding, my good man?” John teased. 

“My God, John, you are incorrigible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment or leave kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reynolds Pamphlet.....and a few surprises.

Philip is nineteen when he graduates King’s College. But it’s also the year the Hamilton family is torn apart. 

The newspapers all bear the story. Everyone knows. Every political opponent, every person on the street. It’s the talk of the city. The Reynolds Pamphlet. Alexander Hamilton’s affair with Maria Reynolds. 

Eliza is furious. Even though she can’t see him, he still tries to avoid her as much as he can, because damn that woman is scary. He thinks he hears the crackling of flames late in the night, and the soft sifting of ashes against metal. Alexander is almost never home, and when he is, he’s locked away in his office. The few moments that John sees him, he’s always in a state of disarray, with bags under his eyes and messy hair. John scatters his quills around and daubs ink, leaving messages for Alexander. They usually just read, ‘why?’ or ‘you messed up’ or something of the like. He’d like to talk to Alex, but in this state he cannot see John. 

Philip is distraught. Not only had the news come as such a shock, the fact that his father wasn’t home very much left him unable to ask why he had done what he did, and it pained John to see the kid he’d looked after for so long, and established a close bond with, like this. 

The days pass. Eliza still empties ashes into the garden late at night, and John still watches them swirl away on the wind, and Philip is still too upset to think about much else, and Alexander still doesn’t come home often, but over time, things get better. It happens slowly, but Eliza no longer burns letters, Philip begins to think about career prospects, and Alexander comes home more and more. The Hamiltons were becoming a family again. 

So of course it would all go to hell. John would, afterwards, blame George Eacker. 

He and Philip had been strolling around New York City, when Philip approached two girls. “Ladies, I’m looking for a Mr. George Eacker, he made a speech last week, our Fourth of July speaker? He disparaged my father’s legacy in front of a crowd, I can’t have that.” Philip explained. “I’m making my father proud.”

One of the girls pointed. “I saw him just down Broadway, a couple of blocks. I believe he was going to see a play.” Philip winked. “Well, I could visit his box.” The other girl giggled, hiding her face behind her hand. “God, you’re a fox!” John rolled his eyes as Philip gave them a charming smile. “You know, y’all look pretty good in your frocks, but when I get back let’s all strip down to our socks.” The ladies blushed and giggled. “Ooh, okay!” 

John swatted his head as they walked away. “Focus, Pip. We’re off to Broadway, looks like.” 

They theater was dark when they entered. The crowd was eagerly watching the play, although John wasn’t really interested. It looked to be some sort of Shakespeare drama. Philip paid the actors no mind as his eyes scanned the room, looking for Eacker. When he finally located him, he stood right up on the seat and shouted, “George! George!”

The man glared down at him. “Shh, I’m trying to watch the show!” Philip glared right back up at him, arms crossed. “You should have watched your mouth before you talked about my father though.” Eacker snorted. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. Your father’s a scoundrel, and so it seems, are you.” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. 

John thought that the separation was the only thing keeping Philip from strangling Eacker on the spot. 

Philip clenched his hands into fists. “It’s like that?” Eacker snorted. “Yeah, I don’t fool around, I’m not your little schoolboy friends.” And here it comes. John sees the look of fierce determination and injustice on Philip’s face. It makes his heart ache, because he saw Alexander wear that same expression many a time. 

He follows Philip as he storms through the streets of New York, listening to his rant about what a horrible person Eacker was. Philip bangs the door of the Hamilton home open, storming up the stairs and knocking on his father’s study door. John hears Alexander’s voice call, “Come in.” 

Like father like son, John thinks as Philip bursts in and immediately begins ranting about what had happened. “Pops, if you had only heard the shit he said about you, I doubt you would have let it slide and I was not about to!” 

“Slow down.” Alexander looks equally amused and tired. John wonders if he remembers the nights during the war, when he, the Marquis, and Mulligan had to drag him away from the desk. They’d worn similar expressions. 

“I came to ask you for advice, this is my very first duel, they don’t exactly cover the subject in boarding school!” John remembers a field, the sound of gunshots, and Alex by his side. Lee do you yield? 

Alexander takes a deep breath. “Alright. This is what you’re going to do. Stand there like a man until Eacker is in front of you. When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air. This will put an end to the whole affair.” Philip looks as surprised as John feels. 

“But what if he decides to shoot? Then I’m a goner!” Philip asks. Alexander is having none of it. “No, he’ll follow suit if he’s truly a man of honor. To take someone’s life, that is something you can’t shake. Philip, your mother can’t take another heartbreak.” Alex looks almost heartbroken himself. Philip still tries to change his father’s mind. 

“Father!” He starts, but Alexander cuts him off. “Promise me. You don’t want this young man’s blood on your conscience.” Philip looks a bit cowed by the pleading tone in Alexander’s voice. “Okay I promise.” 

Alexander claps his son on the shoulder. “Come back home when you’re done. Take my guns, be smart, make me proud, son.” Philip nods and leaves the room. For a moment, it’s only John and Alexander. Wishing desperately for his friend, John sighs. Alexander speaks. “Please, help him if I can’t.” He meets John’s eyes for a brief moment, before his gaze slips away. John nods, throat tight. 

The morning is clear and cool. Good weather for a duel. Philip rises early, heading down to the Hudson. They cross on a boat, Philip nervously tapping on the guns he holds. Eacker is waiting for them at the dueling grounds. John hears Philip murmuring to him. “My name is Philip, I am a poet. And I’m a little nervous but I cannot show it.” He straightens suddenly. “I’m sorry, I’m a Hamilton with pride. You talk about my father I can not let it slide!” John is reminded painfully of Alexander once again. 

They climb up to the dueling grounds. Eacker is waiting with his second, looking very grumpy. Philip tries for a smile, and greets the man. “Mr. Eacker! How was the rest of your show?” John is reminded of Eliza. Philip is truly his parent’s son. George Eacker snorts. “I’d rather skip the pleasantries, let’s go.” Philip swallows and nods. 

“Grab your pistol!” he calls, just as Eacker shouts, “Confer with your men!” Both turn to their seconds. John stands off to the side, hoping to provide some support for Philip. The two duelists take up their positions, facing each other. John hears Philip say, “Look them in the eye, aim no higher. Summon all the courage you require. Then slowly and clearly aim your gun towards the sky.” John nods. Philip manages a shaky smile, and turns back to Eacker. The other man’s second begins to count. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven-” 

John feels his heart plummet as Eacker whirls around and shoots. On the count of seven. Philip collapses, and chaos erupts around them. John’s vision is flickering, between the world around him, visions of the day he was killed, and a blinding white light. The men rush to carry Philip down to the boat. He’s whimpering, the pain will be awful, John knows. His vision goes dark. 

He wakes up in a house of some sort, not knowing how he got there. Philip is laying on what appears to be a doctor’s table. John weakly grasps his hand as the doctors examine the bullet wound. Frantic knocking sounds from downstairs, and the doctor rushes away. He can hear faint conversation, but now his attention is focused on Philip. 

“John, did I do it right?” he asks. His voice is a rasp. John chokes a bit, but he manages to answer. “You did it perfectly, Pip.” The young man turns to face his ghostly friend. “D’you- d’you think Pop will be proud of me?” If all those years John spent with Alexander are any indication, his friend will be proud beyond belief. He nods. They do not have the time to say any more, because just then Alexander bursts into the room, worry written all over his face. “Philip!” He rushes to his son’s side and collapses there. 

Philip’s voice is a bit stronger now. “Pa! I did exactly as you said, Pa. I held my head up high.” Alexander’s voice is absolutely devastated. “I know, I know, shh. You did everything just right.” But Philip doesn’t seem to hear. “Even before we got to ten, I was aiming- I was aiming for the sky.” Alexander tries to shush him. “I know, I know, save your strength and stay alive.” His voice cracks on the last words. 

And the door opens again, but it’s not a doctor this time. It’s Eliza. She shrieks, and rushes over to her son and husband. Turning to Alexander, she frantically asks, “Is he breathing, is he going to survive this? Who did this, Alexander did you know?” Philip speaks again, this time to his mother. “Mom, I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me.” Eliza sobs. “My son.” 

“We played piano.” 

“I taught you piano….” 

“You would put your hands on mine.” Eliza gives a small, heartbroken smile. “You changed the melody every time.” Philip nods weakly. “I would always change the line.” 

Eliza takes a deep breath and begins to count, in French. John remembers how they would do this all those years ago, when Philip was only nine. “Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.” 

“Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.”   
“Good. Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.” 

“Un-deux-trois…” Philip manages to say. 

“Sept-huit-neuf.” Eliza finishes. “Sept-huit….” 

John’s vision goes dark. 

 

Around him, all is bright white light. John blinks, trying to clear his eyes. A shadow stands beside him, a shadow dressed in black. It’s Philip. They embrace, and Philip pulls back to look at John. “It’s weird seeing you in color, after all those years of you being all silvery and stuff….” He trails off, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. 

Suddenly there are people all around them, laughing and hugging. Tears fall. John sees old friends, old family. His father, his mother, a few of his siblings. He also sees the youngest Schuyler sister, Peggy, as well as Philip’s grandparents. The realization hits him. He and Philip…. they’re dead. Well, he was already dead, but Philip is too. He can see the exact moment when Philip realizes too. John pats his shoulder, a silent reassurance that everything will be okay. 

 

They watch over the Hamiltons. It breaks Philip’s heart to see his parents at such odds with one another again, and that makes the day that Eliza finally forgives Alexander even more beautiful. Of course, politics stop for no one, and on that fateful day in the year 1800, they watch as Alexander casts his vote for Jefferson, and makes an enemy of Aaron Burr. 

What follows is several years of tense relations between the two men. It finally boils over one day, and Philip and John are devastated by the news that Burr and Alexander will be dueling. In the same place where Philip was shot. With the same pistols. 

“Ten paces, fire!” 

“WAIT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry. I am a horrible person.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy reunions, a little teeny bit of angst...depends on how you look at it.

They watch as Alexander’s eyes close for the last time. Eliza sobs, and Angelica turns away, wiping tears from her own eyes. Philip leans against John, sniffling. John’s arm wraps around his shoulders, a silent reminder to hold on. 

And then there are more people coming towards them, heading towards another lone figure stumbling towards the group, dressed in a black suit, dark hair loose about his shoulders. John and Philip join the crowd, and they wait as Alexander comes to them, stopping a few feet away, looking dumbfounded. 

A woman John doesn’t recognize, but knows must be Alexander’s mother, steps forward and hugs him tightly, whispering softly in his ear. After that, everyone surges forward. 

Philip rushes into his father’s embrace, and Alexander nearly breaks down, as he clutches Philip like he thought he’d never see him again. The youngest Schuyler sister, Peggy, throws an arm around her brother in law’s neck, before she steps away to allow John room. 

Alexander goes still, and for a moment the two just stare at each other, until they surge into each other’s arms. Alexander tilts his head up and kisses John softly, and John thinks he might just collapse because damn it he missed Alex so much. Philip mutters “knew it” under his breath, but he’s still grinning. 

Everyone goes silent as the final member of their party moves forward. George Washington smiles softly at Alexander, closing the gap in three strides, placing his hands on Alexander’s shoulders. Whispering “son” quietly, and for once Alexander doesn’t protest, doesn’t get angry. He merely wraps his arms around the older man, and John feels that this is the father- son reunion they’ve been waiting for. 

For now, all feels right, but still there are some that they miss most dearly. It’s only a matter of time, John knows. 

 

Angelica is the next one. 

When she arrives, it’s a bit awkward at first. She’s overjoyed to see Peggy and her parents, but when she and Alexander greet each other, they’re silent. 

They embrace, stiffly, until they sort of collapse and she begins to berate Alexander for being foolish and accepting a duel. When she’s done, Angelica turns to John and Philip, saying “the same goes for you two. Even if yours didn’t actually kill you John.” 

It dissolved into laughter after that. 

 

And then …..it’s Eliza. She appears in the same blue dress she was wearing that night in 1780. At a winter’s ball. John hears Alex’s breath catch in his throat. 

When the two see each other, they rush forward, collapsing to the ground as soon as they collide. The Hamiltons and the Schuylers spend hours just sitting, wrapped in each other’s arms now that the families are nearly whole again. 

Love is a powerful thing, John thinks. Alexander pulls him down beside them, whispering ‘thank you’ over and over. Love is a wonderful thing, John knows. 

 

Lafayette and Hercules join them. When the four are finally reunited, in a blur of hugs and friendly punches and hair ruffling, they catch up on what they missed. Lafayette tells them about the remainder of his life, with some difficulty as he speaks of his years in prison. Hercules tells them about the peaceful family life he’d had. 

They sit together then, singing the drinking song they’d sung the night they first met. 

“They’ll tell the story of tonight…”

“Raise a glass to freedom….”

“Raise a glass to the four of us, tomorrow they’ll be more of us….”

“I may not live to see our glory, but I will gladly join the fight…” 

There is no war, no politics, and they can finally be together again. John decides that friendship, too, is a powerful bond. 

 

Jefferson and Madison arrive with little fanfare. Well, Madison does at least. From the stories Washington, Lafayette, and Alexander tell, subtlety has never been a strong point of Jefferson’s. 

Madison shakes Washington’s and Alex’s hands, congratulating and thanking Alexander on the financial system, which has turned out to be greatly beneficial (Alexander knows this, he’s been watching it’s development with a smug expression). 

Jefferson saunters up to them, shaking hands as well before he catches sight of Alex. They just glare at each other for a moment, before Jefferson storms up and embraces Alex, muttering “Asshole” under his breath. John also hears, “thank you, Hamilton.” The two men are much more amiable towards each other after that, something that seems to please Washington especially. 

 

And then the day finally comes. John is the first to see. 

Aaron Burr, off a little ways, being greeted by his wife, daughter Theodosia, and what he supposes is his family. It’s not long before everyone else notices too. 

Several of them make an aggressive move towards Burr, John and Angelica among them (even Washington and Jefferson appear to be angry), but as Alexander steps forward, they stop. It is fair for Alexander to see him first, John knows. After all, Philip marched right up to George Eacker and punched him, followed by Alexander quickly after. 

But Alexander moves slowly and quietly to Burr, before breaking into a run. The people clustered around Burr move aside, as Alexander all but slams into the man, hugging him, to everyone’s shock. 

By then everyone is gathered around, and Alexander smiles gently and says, “Well, if it isn’t Aaron Burr, sir.” Burr responds with a shaky, “Alexander.”, before he grips the smaller man tightly, whispering ‘I’m so sorry’ over and over and over. 

“It’s over now, Aaron. We’re here. It’s over, it’s done, we’ve all done things we regret and it’s okay because we’re here.” Alexander’s voice is firm. Burr smiles and lets a soft chuckle escape. 

And then there is just an explosion of noise and joy. Philip and Theodosia embrace, laughing and crying. She eventually married, but it seemed that she never forgot the young Hamilton. 

Over the years, more join their family. Alexander and Eliza’s children, Philip’s siblings, their grandchildren too. Lafayette and Hercules’s families, and John even sees his wife and daughter. A content feeling spreads through him. John may not have lived to see their glory, but now that he’s been reunited with those he loves, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the story! Hopefully no one cried. PLEASE DON'T CRY.


End file.
